Saturday, June 2, 2012

The Baron's Lady - Chapter 12, Part 2

Just a short one for today. More to come soon...

*****

The sun was
shining. A soft, warm breeze was drifting along. Isabella, standing among the
blueberry bushes in the parish’s yard, looked up at the afternoon sky. Heaven
seemed to be smiling, and she smiled with it. Looking down at her stained
fingers, turned purple by the berries she was picking, the corner of her mouth
crinkled up. What a shock it would have been for her peers to see her thus.
Wearing a simple cream-colored dress and an apron, with her hair wrapped in a
white scarf, she was far removed from the heavily adorned noblewoman she had
once been. And she was glad of it. She had been at the parish just six days,
but no place had ever felt so much like home.

The front gate
creaked. Looking over towards the source of the sound, she saw William leaving.
Politely he waved at her, nodding his head, and she gave a slight wave back as
she watched him depart. Being an ambitious priest in training, he was always
occupied with a task, be it in or out of the church. When he wasn’t assisting in
religious services, he was visiting townspeople or tending to the sick. Like
his mother, he found joy in bringing help and comfort to others. And like his
mother, he was generous and kind – even to a wayward person like herself. He
gave her tasks to occupy her time, and she happily busied herself with whatever
needed doing. For the first time in her life, she felt a true sense of purpose.
And every night, she thanked God for granting such a blessing.

Hearing the
sound of hoof-beats, she paid it little mind at first. The village was a busy
place, and riders passed by on a regular basis. While she went on picking
berries, she heard the slow sound of the gate creaking again, and looking up,
the pleasant expression drained from her face.

“Good morrow,
Baroness.”

She turned away
from the sight of Owen Gisborne, who stood just inside the yard as if awaiting
permission to come forward. But if he sought a friendly invitation, he would
not receive it from her. Without answering, she resumed her work, and when he
slowly approached, she did her best to pretend he was not there. He stood near
her, his tone calm and cool, even friendly in its way.

“I have come to
see my brother, but it appears he is not at home. I am not all surprised. He is
most dedicated to his chosen life of service.”

There was an
upbeat note in his voice, as if he thought to start a friendly conversation.
But finding her unresponsive, his manner became more serious.

“Perhaps it is
fortunate that he is not about. It allows us a chance to speak in private.”

He began
walking slowly back and forth just behind her, talking as he went, and she
tried so hard not to hear him. But the sound of his voice was difficult to
ignore. Just like his father, his presence was something that commanded
attention.

“You departed
our home much too hastily. I had hoped to settle some pressing matters of
friction between you and I. But as you deprived me of the chance to offer my
apologies, I must bring them to you now, along with a tangible gesture of my
efforts. I hope you will accept my gift.”

From the corner
of her eye, she saw him extend his hand. It was impossible not to look, if only
for the sake of her own hateful curiosity. In his palm, he held a gold
bracelet. It was beautiful, and judging from the gemstones that adorned its
surface, it was as expensive as it was attractive.

Her heart broke
at the sight of it.

Raising her
eyes to him, she felt the burn of tears. “Why have you come here?”

The sight of
him was devastating. She had hoped and prayed that after coming to Toulon, she
would not see him again, and she had tried so desperately to wipe away the
memory of his kiss. Thinking of him, she had felt a sense of shame that had
brought her to tears nearly every night, and seeing him now, all sense of
happiness she had known fled in an instant. He looked at her with a strange
expression…almost a look of hurt.

“I told you I
have come to give you this. Why do you weep? Are you not pleased by it?”

She shook her
head. Her voice trembled. “I cannot accept it.”

“Why can you
not?”

“Please leave
me alone.”

She turned to
go, but reaching out, he gently grasped her arm. Just the touch of his hand set
her defenses to shaking, bringing them dangerously close to toppling.

“I will not go
until you give an explanation,” he said. “I ask your forgiveness, I offer you a
gift…and you shun me, as you have before.” His voice rose, the sound of his
anger rising. “You will tell me the reason!"

Anger and pain
forced their way up and out of her body, charging her words with passion.

“I will not be your
mistress! I am not chattel to be bought and paid for!”

His voice, so
steady before, now broke slightly as he declared…

“I do not bring
you a gift in order to make you my mistress! I give it to you to tell you that
I love you!”

Taking a step
back, tears flooded her eyes. Lowering her head, she lifted her apron and
pressed it to her face, weeping. He came to stand before her, and she could
hear the furious displeasure in his voice.

“My feelings
are so hateful to you that they cause you to weep?”

Dropping her
apron, she shouted at him through bitter tears.

“How can you
dare to claim that you love me? Did you love me so much when you stood before
your mother, vehemently deeming me a whore? Now you come to me with a bauble,
seeking my favor. I cannot bear it!”

Burying her
face in her hands, she barely heard the change that came to his voice. It
became soft…almost pained. He tried to speak, but faltered.

“Isabella, I…”

He was kneeling
at her side. She could feel his closeness, and she wanted so badly to lash out
at him. He seemed, at that moment, to be the reprensentation of all the wrongs
that had pained her. He tried again to offer his explanation and words of apology.

“What I said in
a moment of anger…it was wrong. I know that now. I swear to you that my
feelings for you are true and honorable.”

Moments passed.
Sadness gripped her, stealing her voice, and she could not find the will to
reply to anything. He sighed, consenting to defeat.

“I will go,
then, and leave you in peace. I beg you to consider all that I have said.”

She wept
bitterly, not hearing or seeing him as he walked away, and unaware of the sight
of him pausing, just at the gate, to look back at her.

Owen at 17 years is still a child in many ways--untutored in the ways of the world and of love. He thinks that an apology and a gift can erase the feelings of shame at her own weakness that Lady Isabella feels. And his choice of gift was too extravagant for a lady of any era to accept from a man who was not her husband or betrothed.

Though a man (Rene) was the instrument of Lady Isabella's shame, she bears the full force of the shame by her being shunned from the society of acquaintances that she once knew and the station that she enjoyed.

I am so glad that I live in the era that I do, despite my being "old fashioned" about such things as love and commitment.

This was another wonderful chapter. I can't wait to read what happens next! ;->